The Old Dwarf And The Sea
by Isabeau of Greenlea
Summary: Gimli and Legolas journey to the Undying Lands, which are never the same afterwards....
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note--This one is for Féadan, list-master of Henneth-Annûn.

The storm had lasted three days, an eternity of crashing black water, shrieking waves and undulating, oily-dark or nacreous-pale sea serpents. Gimli, having tried to weather it below at first only to find himself being tossed about like the bean in a baby's rattle, had ended by chaining himself to the mast after helping Legolas lash himself to the tiller. When the seas had finally calmed, he had literally crawled below decks to seek his soggy bed, consigning his soul to Aulë for the hundreth time in recent memory as a sensible precaution first. When he woke, he swung his legs over the bed--only to set them down in water that rose over his ankles. The resulting bellow could be heard above deck.

"LEGOLAS! Who built this ship? The lowest bidder?"

Legolas peered down into the hold, his clothing and hair so rimed with salt that their true color could not be distinguished. Of course, that was true of his hair most of the time anyway, so it was not overly disturbing.

"Why, I did, Gimli!" he declared, much more cheerful now that the sky was clearing with the coming of morning. At the foot of the ladder, the dwarf stared up at him, age-rheumed eyes wide in appalled horror.

"You did? You did not tell me that! I thought some of those nice lads from Edellhond came up the river and made it for you! Or that that Cirdan fellow sent it down to you."

Legolas laughed merrily. "Oh no, friend Gimli--the Edhellond elves left for the West long ago! And it would take far too long to get a ship from Cirdan. My sweet _Minnow_ was built in Ithilien by my own hand, as is fitting."

If possible, the dwarf's look of horror increased. "Your own hand? The _Wood-Elf_ hand? _The never-built-a-boat-or-anything-else-for-that-matter hand?_" To the elf's puzzlement and irritation, Gimli suddenly drew a dagger and cut three slashes into the riser of the stairs, close to the water and one above the other. He then looked up at Legolas almost pleadingly.

"Tell me you had some help from a shipwright, any shipwright?"

"Why, no."

"Not even a human one from the Harlond?"

"No."

"Then a shipwright left you some plans, and you followed them?"

"No."

"You made a practice model first? And tested it in the River?"

"Nay, Gimli. That is not how it is done."

"Then how in the name of the Maker is it done?"

Legolas sat down in the hatchway, his legs dangling down the stairs, and smiled comfortingly at his irascible companion.

"I took logs from trees that had fallen in the forest of their own accord, seasoned and dedicated to this task by invocations to Yavanna and to Ulmo. Then I simply cut away the parts that weren't the ship, and fastened the rest together." His voice was positively chirpy.

"Surely you jest, Legolas!"

"Nay, Gimli."

Gimli looked at the riser. There were now only two slashes. He turned and sloshed a way back into the hold, poked about a bit, then returned. His brows drew down, he glowered up at the elf, and when he spoke again, his voice had the Dwarvish burr that only manifested when he was very upset.

"Apparrrrrrrrently, Ulmo was not impressed with your invocations or your fastenings, Captain Elf. I dinna think she can take much more."

************

Legolas, when shown the riser, was dismayed. He retreated back up onto the deck, to return a moment later helpfully proffering a delicate silver bucket graven with leaves and with an intricately chased bail. Gimli snorted, ignored it, turned and plodded back into the depths of the hold. Feeling a bit injured, the elf came down the ladder to find him grumbling under his breath, and fishing about in the rising water for a crowbar, which he eventually retrieved. The dwarf then turned his attention to a large crate, tall as himself, which he had insisted upon bringing with him. He had carefully lashed it into the cargo space, and it had survived the storm unscathed, but now he attacked the crate, prying at it feverishly with the crowbar.

"Fortunately for you, Sir Elf," he muttered as he worked, "Master Glóin did not raise stupid sons."

"Gimli, you must be careful! You are past the age where such exertions are healthy! Do have a care!" Legolas pleaded, trying to calm his friend. But Gimli did not listen.

"Legolas, have you ever considered....." he panted as he worked, "....that maybe you aren't _supposed_ to get to Valinor? That maybe the lot of you Elves are just compelled to build boats and sail cheerfully over the edge of the world? That maybe.....just maybe.....Lady Galadriel had a good reason for warning you away from the Sea with that silly poem of hers? That it meant to stay away from the Sea because you were going to _die_ if you didn't, you tree-hugging nit?"

Gravely offended, Legolas nonetheless started helping to pull boards away from the end of the crate as they finally splintered under the dwarf's onslaught. "You should not say such things, Gimli! The Valar have ever loved us! Why would they wish us harm?"

"Because the Valar are probably arse-deep in Elves by now! All those Elves they got in the First Age.....if those Elves have all been having little baby Elves, and the baby Elves have been having more baby Elves in their turn.....and so forth and so on........and no one is dying........the place is probably packed with Elves, all cheek by jowl! They don't need any more, so they just let you lot keep thinking you are sailing over to join them, no one ever comes back and no one is ever the wiser!"

"You speak blasphemy!" Legolas cried, angered and dismayed, and turned to leave. Gimli reached into the depths of the crate, withdrew a strange tube made of hide with metal fittings upon the end of it, and pressed it into his hand.

"Take that with you when you go," he commanded, "and drape the end of it over the side up top. And see that you do not pinch or snag it!" Legolas glared at him, but did as the dwarf bade, noticing that the tube was very long and that it uncoiled behind him as he mounted the stairs and gained the deck once more. After angling the end over the edge of the ship as he had been instructed, Elven curiosity overrode his anger, and he returned below deck to find the Dwarf tinkering with a device the like of which he had never seen, and could not fathom the use of.

"Gimli, what is this thing? I thought that box of yours was filled with Dwarven mining and crafting implements. That is what you told me."

The dwarf regarded him with grim satisfaction. "And that is exactly what this is, Legolas, a mining implement. A very precious one, like our lights that burn with no flame. Mines do flood at times, and need to have the water removed. That is what this device does, and I see no reason why it should not serve the same purpose equally well in a ship."

Legolas frowned, feeling rather humiliated. "You _expected_ my ship to sink?"

"Nay, not yours in particular. I expect _all_ ships to sink, and thought it best to be prepared. I am too old a dwarf to be learning new tricks like breathing water." Turning back to the device, he began to do all sorts of incomprehensible things; tweaking knobs, pumping bellows, flipping levers and muttering Dwarven phrases that might have been prayers, curses or both. Not surprisingly, Legolas caught the name of Aulë, but someone he'd never heard of before called Murfë was also propitiated.

With a jolt, the odd contraption lurched into a semblance of life, making a steady clanking noise. The strange tube swelled and stiffened, and Legolas, going back up onto the deck, saw water pouring out from the end of the tube back into the sea. He adjusted the sails a bit, and checked the lashing that held the tiller in place and then returned below to find that the water level was dropping, and the dwarf humming, happier than he'd been since the voyage started as he tinkered with the implement.

"'Tis truly a marvelous device, Gimli!" he exclaimed sincerely, his earlier anger forgotten in his amazement at the dwarf's foresight and cleverness.

"Aye, such things are scarce, even among us. You do not want to know what I had to pay for this, Master Elf."

"Whatever the price, it was worth it! Though I confess, I am puzzled--what makes it move?"

"I should not tell you," growled Gimli, "for it is one of the greatest secrets of my people. But since we are probably both going to perish anyway.......the engine is powered by a magic crystal. In your tongue it would be called 'crystal-of-great-power-and-usefulness-which-is-not-as-pretty-as-a-Silmaril-but-is-also-a-lot-less-trouble-as-well'. In the sacred tongue of my forefathers, it is called 'di-lithûm'."

************

Gimli's mining pump was able to draw ahead of the incoming water, and eventually drained the hold enough that the dwarf was able to effect some repairs, using a dwarven sealant, and a special leathery substance, that when unrolled bore a gruesome resemblance to flayed orc-hide. The Elf wrinkled his nose when he saw Gimli cutting patches out of it, but the dwarf was not apologetic in the least.

"You tan it up and it's waterproof and almost impervious. It is not as if we have herds of blind cave-cows wandering around down there, and at least the orcs are good for something this way!" Knowing that if it had not been for the dwarf, he would have been doing the breast-stroke to Valinor, Legolas held his tongue and his course, and fixed the meals for them both without complaint, while Gimli strove to keep the Sea outside of the ship.

Dwarven stubbornness paid off in time--they made the Straight Road, and eventually came into Tol Eressëa with no further mishaps. There, a certain amount of humiliation awaited both of the friends--Gimli found that his suppositions about certain doom and over-populated Elves were wrong, while Legolas had to endure the snide remarks of some of the Teleri sailors, who suggested that _Whale_ would be a better name than _Minnow_ for his vessel, given the way that it wallowed and spouted.

From Tol Eressëa, they went to Valinor itself, and met many of their old friends again--Gandalf, Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel all greeted them joyfully, and feasts were held in their honor. Legolas soon made a pleasant home for the two of them upon the forested slopes above Aqualondë; the best of both worlds, he declared, with trees for himself and rocks for Gimli. But not long after he had done so, Legolas encountered a sweet Sindarin maiden who had preceeded him West by several hundred years, but who nonetheless had fond memories of many a forest festival spent in his company. 

After a whirlwind courtship, the two were promptly wed and enthusiastically began a big family, unable to overcome their Mirkwood upbringing, where the Elves had uncharacteristically large families because so many of the offspring ended up as spider-food or orc-fodder. When the occasional supercilious Noldor offered snide commentary upon the size of his family, Legolas' answer was always the same: "I have one word for you--Fëanor." That usually shut them up and sent them packing in a hurry.

Gimli, though still welcome at Legolas' house, found himself a bit at loose ends after a time. While not exactly irritable, he was nonetheless past the age where he found Elven toddlers swinging upon the end of his beard to be amusing. And one could only be the villain and play at killing Thingol Greycloak so many times in the cause of fostering childhood creativity before the desire to kill an elf for real overcame one. So he had a small cabin built a short distance away, and more and more, he started keeping to himself, indulging his old love of prospecting upon the steep slopes that surrounded his home. To his astonishment, he found a sizeable vein of the precious di-lithûm, but while the discovery gave him a sense of accomplishment, there was no real use for it--he'd already found the Noldorin smiths to be jealous of their secrets, so he had no intention of showing them his.

Legolas, noticing his detachment, was concerned and rather guilty; he had not intended to bring Gimli to Valinor for him to live out his declining years bored and alone. So he tried to make as much time for his friend as he could, and in truth, the dwarf was a useful excuse to escape the increasingly hectic confines of his home. But Gimli languished the rest of the time, wondering why he had come here at all--until the morning two strange elves showed up at his door.


	2. Chapter Two

"I am Orvelos," the taller of the two declared, looking down at him, "and this is my friend Wilburaë." Orvelos was tall and lanky even for an elf, his untidy dark hair and fanatically burning eyes pronouncing his Noldor antecedents. Wilburaë was shorter and not quite so thinly built, but while his pale hair proclaimed him to be of the Teleri, his sea-blue eyes burned just as madly as did those of his friend. They were both of them carrying leather portfolios overflowing with parchments and papers. "We seek your wisdom, good Master Dwarf."

"About what?" Gimli asked. There was an almost Dwarvish air about the two of them that intrigued him. "Are you having some difficulty with a mine?"

"Nay, Master Gimli," Orvelos replied. "This is about your wonderful pumping device. Might we come in?"

"The pump? What about it? I assumed that it was still upon Prince Legolas' vessel." Wilburae's lips pursed up in an endeavor to repress a sneer.

"That poor thing? It was put out of its misery and dismantled some time ago," the Teleri said, his voice higher than his friend's. "The wood was set aside to repair other vessels, and the pump put in one of our warehouses. I discovered it, and knowing that Orvelos is interested in such things, showed it to him. He was fascinated, and the two of us have conferred and planned for a long time about the uses to which such a device might be put."

The innate possessiveness of Dwarves flared in Gimli's heart then, and he frowned as he declared, "The pump belongs to me!" Papers fluttered from their bindings as the two elves hastened to reassure him.

"We realize that, Master Dwarf!" Orvelos hastened to say. "That was never in dispute! In fact, that is why we are here--we wish to examine the device more closely, particularly its inner workings, and have come to ask for your permission, and hopefully your help as well."

"Towards what end?" Gimli asked, now very curious. Orvelos shuffled his portfolio about uncomfortably, obviously wanting to pull out something specific from within. Snorting, the dwarf stepped back from the doorway and beckoned the two of them in. It was not the most gracious invitation, but they did not seem to notice, and readily crowded into Gimli's small cabin.

"The device takes in water at one end, and expels it with considerable force from the other, if I understand its purpose correctly," the Noldor said, spilling his papers onto the kitchen table, and rifling through them. Wilburaë followed suit, and there was much rustling for a moment. "Wilburaë and I are thinking that if we could increase the speed and force with which the device works, and perhaps make it smaller, than it could feasibly be used to give motive power to a sea-going vessel."

"Rendering it completely independent of the vagaries of wind and wave!" exclaimed the Teleri. "And making it possible to attain speeds far greater than even the fastest sail-powered vessel under oar!" He had the crazed, obsessed look common to Dwarves in the midst of a creative frenzy, and for the first time since he'd arrived in Valinor, Gimli felt at home.

"Let us show you what we have intuited about the inner workings of your device, and perhaps you might be able to suggest how we could reproduce it," Orvelos pleaded. "We took our idea to the master smiths, and they laughed at us, and refused us working space. But we will build a shanty up the beach if we must--this will be a great break-through if we succeed, and nothing must be allowed to stop our work!"

"That's the spirit, lad!" Gimli declared approvingly. "Show me what you have." It took but a few moments to determine that their ideas about the inner workings of the machine were only half-correct, and pen, paper and ten minutes more to set them straight. Odd though they might be, there was nothing wrong with their minds. "But this is not designed to do what you want to do in any event," he explained to his visitors. "You would not be able increase the output enough, I deem, to do what you accomplish. What you need is a screw."

"A screw?" Orvelos asked uncomprehendingly. Nervousness overcame him a moment later, and he looked at Wilburaë with an idiotic grin. The two of them actually giggled.

Gimli sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, and prayed to Aulë for patience. "A screw," he reiterated, "or perhaps some sort of fin-like thing to move the water. If it turned fast enough, you might get the velocity you desired." The elves looked at each other and giggled once more, this time in relief.

"You two don't get out much, do you?" the dwarf asked them. Blushes came over their countenances.

"Who has time for maidens?" Orvelos protested. "It is the work that is important!"

"And we are not......popular," Wilburaë admitted mournfully.

  
"Can't imagine why!" muttered the dwarf. "And you Elves with as many women as men!" Of course, he had encountered this phenomena before, he reflected, fondly remembering the frenetic clangor of sublimating hammers pounding every spring in the Lonely Mountain. Ah, youth........

"Please, Master Dwarf," Orvelos pleaded, trying to bring Gimli's attention back to the matter at hand. "You've been most helpful just in this short amount of time. Your advice and knowledge would expedite our project enormously." Wilburaë, who seemed content to let Orvelos be the spokesman, nodded vigorous assent.

Gimli looked them up and down for a moment. Two absolute fanatics with a crazy idea that looked to involve great effort, heartbreak, possible physical peril, had almost no chance of success, and looked to be world-changing if it did succeed. It was enough to make one positively reminiscent about the good old days!

"Very well, I'm in," he told them. The Elves whooped in glee. "The first order of business is for me to look into this work-space problem of yours."

Some of Orvelos' elation faded. "I do not know what you will be able to do, Master Gimli--the smiths were most obdurate."

Gimli's age-creased face split in a big grin. "What makes you think that I am going to talk to the _smiths_?"

************

"And so you see, my lady, the smiths have been rather.......difficult," he said the next day to the person he hoped would solve the workspace problem.

"I had heard something about this idea, and dismissed it out of hand myself, Lockbearer," said Lady Galadriel, her white draperies trailing behind her as she paced about the room. "I had no idea that you were involved, or I would have insisted that the smiths allocate the space that was requested. Are you sure that this is something you wish to participate in, Gimli? Orvelos and Wilburaë are considered rather.....erratic."

"Then all the better that they have a firm Dwarven hand to hold them to their course, my lady. And it will give me something to occupy my mind during those dreary times when I am not basking in the glory of your beauty."

Galadriel gave him an arch look. "Those who speak of the rough, unlovely tongues of the Dwarves never met you, Lockbearer! A warehouse, forge and wharf, you say? There are such properties amongst my family holdings. I believe I can arrange for all that you desire."

"My lady, if you could grant all that I desire, Lord Celeborn would not be speaking to either one of us," Gimli said daringly. Galadriel gave him a girlish smile, and a musical laugh.

"The things you say, Gimli! Such a flatterer! Let me see what I can do."

When Galadriel set her mind to getting things done things got done, no matter who objected, which was one of the reasons the Valar had not been in any hurry for her to return. Within two days, Gimli and the elves had their work-space, and it was soon filled with plans, tools, and the disassembled pump. The three inventors then set out upon a frenetic round of activity. Orvelos was responsible for forging and casting the parts of the device, while Wilburaë spent his days creating small scale models of the ship that would house it and testing them in the outgoing tide for seaworthiness and aqua dynamics.

Gimli supervised the whole project, and greatly enjoyed doing so, for association with the two young lunatics brought to mind his younger days in the craft halls. They all of them pretty much lived with their work, having brought cots to the warehouse, and they ate whatever could be had at the local taverns. There was no-one to tell them to wipe their feet, take baths, fold their clothes or pick up their work area, and no-one to swing upon Gimli's beard. When Orvelos and Wilburaë both chipped in and bought him a keg of ale as a token of their appreciation, and set it up right there in the shop, his happiness was almost complete. It was the perfect bachelor domicile.

Not long after Gimli moved down onto the wharf, he was visited one day by Legolas, who looked about at the chaotic disarray with a frown of puzzlement. He had been greeted by Orvelos and Wilburaë with the greatest of respect, as a member of the Fellowship, and the two of them had retreated outside in a rare display of tact and consideration.

"Gimli, what is it that you are doing here?" 

Gimli, clasping his arm with great affection, said, "Building boats."

"Building boats?"

"Aye. Boats that do not need oars or sails."

"That seems rather....unnatural. What do the Lords of Aqualondë say about it? And the Valar?" Gimli shrugged.

"Don't know. Haven't asked. Would you care for some ale?" Legolas owned that he would, and after some searching, Gimli found him a clean tankard and filled it. The elf then settled into a chair that wasn't filled with parts and papers and looked about bemusedly.

"Are you coming home soon, Gimli? Amarilia and the children all miss you, and so do I."

Gimli looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Not for a little while yet, Legolas; a year, perhaps more. It will take us that long to create a working prototype. And for my beard to regain its former fullness." Legolas winced.

"I am sorry about that, my friend. The children mean well, you know."

"I'm sure the Fall of Doriath is not the same without me." Legolas winced again, and took a deep drink from his tankard.

"In your absence, they've moved on to the Fall of Gondolin. Guess who gets to be Maeglin?" It was Gimli's turn to grimace.

"You have my sympathy, friend Elf. You know that you are welcome to come and visit me anytime you like."

A look of surprised gratitude suffused the Elf's countenance. "Truly, Gimli? You wouldn't mind? I would hate to interrupt your work."

"Oh, there'll be no interrupting," the Dwarf assured him, "We'll put you to work. I'm sure that a master boat-builder like you will be of use." Legolas gave his friend a suspicious look, but Gimli managed to seem totally sincere. Though it was perhaps just as well that Wilburaë had stepped out for the moment.... "And thanks to me, you know your way around a forge a bit. We'll find something for you to do." He gave his friend a knowing grin. "In fact, anytime the Fall of Gondolin gets to be too wearing, send word, and I'll send a note desperately requesting your aid for a week or two. Surely Amarilia cannot deny the wishes of your poor old mortal friend."

Deeply moved, Legolas took another swig and sighed gustily. "Oh Gimli, you have no idea what your offer means to me." The Dwarf cocked a bushy brow.

"On the contrary, Elf, I certainly do."

************

With Legolas visiting as often as he could make excuses to get away, Gimli's happiness was now complete, and he applied himself to the work with a will, as did his two co-workers. That was not to say that they did not have their set-backs; a couple of wharf-fires, some near-drownings, the odd collision, and the very spectacular explosion of one engine, which they had actually installed in a hull, and which Wilburaë happened to be test-piloting at the time.

He was blown to Mandos in an instant, and Gimli and Orvelos were left heart-broken and bereft, wondering where they would find another such genius to collaborate with them. They ceased work for a week, drifting about aimlessly, and had just decided one morning to begin again and do what they could, when in walked Wilburaë, subject of the swiftest re-embodiment in Elven history. When asked how such a miracle had come to pass, the Teleri simply shrugged and explained, "I wasn't popular there, either," and took up his work where he'd left off as if nothing had happened.

"Thanks be to Mandos for that!" exclaimed Orvelos.

"Mandos says that really, no thanks are necessary," murmured Wilburaë abstractedly, squinting down the keel of one of his hulls with a frown, "and that I should be more careful and live a long, long time." He stroked a hand along the side of the boat. "Twitchy bunch of wisps they were there--not a good conversationalist in the lot. And all that business about reflecting upon your life--it's not like I ever got up to much. About all I had to talk about was the boat."

"Well, we're just glad to have you back," Gimli said heartily, exchanging raised eyebrow looks with Orvelos over the Teleri's head.

"Good to be back. You get that second engine finished yet, Orvelos? I'm ready to go out again whenever it's done."


End file.
